


sunlight's zenith

by goodnightpuckbunny



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Sexual Content, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 13:15:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20210353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnightpuckbunny/pseuds/goodnightpuckbunny
Summary: After three days going around the island without Sid, Zhenya decided to stay in. They could probably have sex, and it was supposed to be a scorcher anyways.





	sunlight's zenith

**Author's Note:**

> For Bottom Geno Week. Thanks to zhenyabest for organizing! 
> 
> Some tropical vacation fucking with a little bit of oral fixation for today's prompt—but mostly it's Sid and Geno taking turns being brats, but lovingly so. This fic brought to you by the fact that I had to turn the heat on today and I'm mad about it.

Maybe it had been a mistake to bring Sid on vacation with him. Sid was unsuited to tropical weather, and he didn’t feel much like leaving their resort room during the midday peak in temperature. Of course, Sid went to the gym with him in the morning, and out to dinner with him once the sun started to set, but during the day, Zhenya was on his own. For the first few days Zhenya had gone to do fun things out of spite: snorkeling, water-skiing, shopping, sailing. And meanwhile Sid stayed in and re-watched hockey tape, or had long phone calls with Nathan MacKinnon, or took cold baths.

It surprised Zhenya that he broke first, but he came on vacation _ with Sid_. He knew Sid was boring, and liked him anyways—liked his jewel-toned polo shirts and bland taste in entertainment. So after three days going around the island without Sid, Zhenya decided to stay in. They could probably have sex, and it was supposed to be a scorcher anyways. 

After their morning workout where Sid pushed Zhenya far more than he would’ve done on his own during the summer, they went back to their room for breakfast. They had rented a suite in one of those big grass resort huts in the middle of the water, attached by a dock to the main hotel, but extremely private. Room service had left a mountain of fruit and a stack of thin pancakes. Zhenya sliced his half on top of the pancakes and ate like his stomach was a bottomless bucket; Sid dumped his fruit in the blender.

They took a nap on the sofa after breakfast—or rather, Sid read a book about macro-nutrients while Zhenya dozed in the breeze that rolled through their curtains off the ocean. Admittedly it was relaxing, but Zhenya bored quickly.

He went outside their suite to the deck where two loungers sat in the sunshine. He played music on his phone and visualized a successful new season while he worked on his tan. 

Sid let Zhenya suck on him for a while after coming in from sunning himself, his mouth happily stretched around Sid’s cock. Zhenya was warm and feeling lazy enough to close his eyes and think of nothing while he licked and sucked sloppily. He liked having something in his mouth, and Sid was the perfect size, the perfect texture, the perfect temperature. And then of course it belonged to Sid, who Zhenya loved. 

After a long time, Sid tugged Zhenya’s head down and spilled down his throat with a groan. Zhenya didn’t choke, and swallowed without complaint.

He got up off his knees and shook out the numbness he’d earned from kneeling on the floor for so long. It was starting to heat up now, the sun rising quickly to its zenith, casting the suite in a narrow shadow. Zhenya shucked his shorts and flopped down naked beside Sid, taking up as much space as he could without touching Sid’s warm skin.

Sid tucked himself back into his shorts and flipped on the TV. “You good?” He asked.

Zhenya made a non-committal noise. Sucking cock usually made him desperate, but it was hot out and he felt as if he was a bowl of ice cream already turned to soup. Sid could always fuck him later. 

“Here,” Sid said, and then his hand was brushing between Zhenya’s thighs. He parted them, letting Sid do whatever he wanted. Sid was relatively new to sleeping with men, and sometimes just wanted to explore without the pressure of getting Zhenya off. Zhenya didn’t mind. He could barely admit it to himself, but he liked Sid using him.

He let his eyes fall shut again. Sid pushed a finger between Zhenya’s cheeks, and Zhenya moved to give Sid better access. “Feels good,” he said to encourage Sid. 

Sid pulled his hand away, and after a moment came back with it wet, slick. “Don’t touch yourself,” he instructed, and pressed his fingers against Zhenya’s hole.

* * *

Zhenya was _ sweating_, his neck hot, his back stuck to the cream-coloured leather of the sofa. He could barely breathe in the stifling humidity of the room—never mind that he was spread out as wide as he could be with one foot over the back of the sofa, and the other resting on the cooler surface of the floor. He was boiling alive.

Sid moved two fingers inside him, rotating and thrusting in a slow, endless pattern that was driving Zhenya crazy. He had found a way to finger Zhenya that was one-hundred-percent frustrating—that came close to his prostate, but rarely touched it—that didn’t stretch him nearly enough—and Sid wasn’t even paying attention to Zhenya gaping like a fish beside him.

He was watching golf. 

Fucking golf.

Zhenya _ hated _fucking golf.

In the past, he’d maybe fantasized about fucking on the green, especially when all Zhenya saw of Sid during the summer was conservative selfies on the course. He thought maybe Sid could drive him around in a cart all day and then take him apart somewhere in the middle of eighteen holes, make him scream while there was no one else around. Zhenya, at least, liked Sid’s golf _ gloves _. And the way he held a club. Sid was sexy when he was competent in something, and sexier still when he was unabashedly enjoying himself. 

But golf was a _ boring game_, and here Sid was watching it instead of _ him_. 

“Nice,” Sid would murmur now and then, or, “Good shot.” 

“_Sid_,” Zhenya complained.

Sid shushed him. “This is a really important swing. Let me concentrate.”

Zhenya whimpered. His brain was going to slide out of his ears, and _ then _ who would give Sid shit in the locker room?

Sid kept twisting his fingers inside Zhenya, though, like he had all the time in the world and Zhenya wasn’t going to explode from it. He rested a third finger against Zhenya’s rim. Zhenya canted his hips, silently begging for it, but instead, Sid pulled away completely. There was the tell-tale click of a cap, and then a squirting sound, and Sid’s fingers were back again. Zhenya didn’t like so much lube because it was slimy and gross and got all over everything, but Sid was nervous without it and wouldn’t even jerk Zhenya off without a slick palm. So Zhenya had grown to tolerate it—being wet. He didn’t even mind when Sid commented on how wet he was, shame and flattery coiling together in the pit of his stomach.

Except Sid wasn’t saying anything to him now. To the golfers on TV, he said, “Atta boy,” and pushed his fingers deep into Zhenya and held them there for a second before going back to his rhythm. A muscle in Zhenya’s thigh twitched. 

Zhenya was achingly hard. He was on an edge, but not about to come. 

“Okay,” Sid said, a century later, “commercial break.” He slid his fingers out of Zhenya and wiped them on his bare leg. “Do you wanna ride me until it’s back on? It’s too hot for me, but I’ll let you do it.” Zhenya opened one eye to glare at him. Sid patted his lap.

Zhenya was a beached fucking jellyfish.

“Remember, don’t touch yourself.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” Zhenya grumbled, but Sid just laughed. 

Zhenya sat up, and then stood on wobbly legs. Sid was still wearing all of his clothes—even his ugly Adidas slides—both arms slung across the back of the couch, the picture of casual disinterest, except for the bulge in his shorts. “Well?” he asked.

“You let everyone else do work and you rest, huh?” Zhenya straddled Sid’s thighs, reveling in the ache that was settling into his joints after being spread open for so long. “Take your beautiful cock out. Let me feel it,” Zhenya told him in Russian. 

Sid did just that, though he probably only knew the word for _ cock_. He held it upright for Zhenya to lower himself onto. Sid hissed as Zhenya pushed down, still tight despite everything. “Sensitive,” he explained.

“Don’t complain. You get me like this, so it’s your fault.”

Zhenya rode him. He didn’t touch himself. Instead he ground down so that the perfect curve of Sid’s cock rubbed the head against Zhenya’s prostate the whole time. He wrapped his arms around Sid’s neck and kissed him deeply. He wanted to hear Sid say _ that’s it _ and _ take it _ and _ Geno_, but he couldn’t break away and settled for Sid’s high, desperate whines instead. 

In the end, it didn’t take long once Sid’s cock was inside him. He circled his hips at just the right angle, subtly rubbing his own cock against the fabric of Sid’s shirt, and spilled all over in record time. 

Sid wasn’t done yet, still hard and hot as the sun inside. “Just a little,” Sid said, hands now on Zhenya’s hips, trying to move him. Sid had no leverage, though, and Zhenya wasn’t about to give it to him. 

“You’re mean to me,” Zhenya tutted. “You think you deserve? Already give you my mouth.”

“That was like half an hour ago!”

Zhenya hummed. He kept his hips very still, but clenched around Sid’s cock. “You tease me so much, Sid.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“By make mess?” Zhenya clenched again.

“Fuck! No! By—anything. Whatever you want.”

Sid was too easy. Zhenya knew he’d never had it so good, but he should smarten up or Zhenya was going to destroy him. “Say golf sucks.”

“What?”

“Say _ golf sucks_.”

“Alright, fine. Golf sucks.”

“Good.” Zhenya pulled up, and off, flopping back onto his back on the couch while Sid spluttered his indignancy. 

“_Geno— _”

Zhenya spread his legs again, slid his fingers along the crease of his thighs. “Come get it,” he says.

Sid was on him instantly, pulling Zhenya’s legs around his hips and then sinking inside, all the way. He gave Zhenya his fingers to suck on, and then started pumping into him. He fucked into Zhenya like he had the puck and an open lane, sprinting as fast as he could to the goal line. It took him a dozen thrusts, and then he was coming inside Zhenya, making him even wetter. 

He collapsed on top of Zhenya, then, heavy as a sack of potatoes. Zhenya groaned under Sid’s weight. “Tired now, Sid,” Zhenya complained.

Sid huffed a laugh. “Well, whose fault is that?”

“Yours!”

“Let’s take a shower,” Sid suggested, “and then we can sleep until dinner time.” He rolled off Zhenya, and got to his feet. He offered Zhenya a hand up.

“If we shower, maybe we fuck again,” Zhenya warned. He was a little sore, but he could go another round.

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Sid said with a grin. Zhenya smiled too, grasped Sid’s hand, and let Sid pull him into the bedroom.


End file.
